


Say Something

by Dassandre



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 11:10:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20173279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dassandre/pseuds/Dassandre
Summary: Inspired by "Say Something" by A Great Big World, but it's not really a song fic.





	Say Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts), [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts).

> New music means new plot bunnies.
> 
> Pardon any errors. This was written on the fly. One of those things that needs to be written.

“James …”

Tension. It had hung heavily over the flat like a cloak drenched in darkness.

For weeks.

It was gone now.

Destroyed not by resolution or renewal but by the weight of its own burden.

“I’ll be the one … if you want me to.” 

Q’s hand curled over the back of the armchair, the pads of his fingers tracing the slightly-worn pattern in the upholstery. Habit. 

James stood at the window, looking out across the darkened ‘scape of the city. 

Whisky in hand. Silent.

For weeks.

“Anywhere, James … I would follow you.”

He’d thought he’d known everything. So smart. So shrewd. Always the right solution. Never wrong. 

But he had been. He knew nothing at all.

How could it have gone so bloody wrong? 

Q felt so small. It was all over his head. 

He’d stumbled. Fallen. 

“I’m still learning to love. Just starting to crawl, really.”

James drank deeply from his glass. 

“Say something, please.”

James refilled the glass from the decanter on the ledge by touch alone. 

Drank again.

Q tore at his hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you!” Why couldn’t James understand that? He’d done all he could. Had still been working all options when James managed to extract himself three weeks later. 

The damage … extensive.

The loss, incalculable.

Resignation. Heartbreak. Sorrow. 

They’d been lurking in the shadows. Waiting for the tension to die. For the cloak to fall.

Hope …

Guttering.

“SAY SOMETHING!!” Q’s shout echoed off the walls of the flat.

James didn’t even flinch in response.

“I’m giving up on you.” The words … broken. 

Barely a whisper.

Swallowing his pride, Q sidestepped the chair and pulled James around to face him. “You’re the one that I love!” 

James met his gaze, unwavering.

“Anywhere, I would’ve followed you,” Q husked, grasping James’ face in his hands.

The blue of those eyes, glacial.

Impersonal.

Joyless.

Q’s grip slackened. His hands fell to his sides.

Resolve replaced regret.

“You’re the one that I love.” Leaning in, Q pressed a kiss to the corner of James’ mouth. “And I’m saying goodbye,” he whispered into the flesh.

Q turned and walked away. He slipped on his overcoat, slung his rucksack over his shoulder, and took up the large duffle he’d packed earlier in the day.

When he reached the door, he turned just enough to catch a glimpse of James from the corner of his eye.

“Say something,” Q begged one last time. “I’m giving up on you.”

James had already turned back to the window.

The door clicked quietly behind Q. 

_ Say something. _

  
  
  
  



End file.
